Ghost Stories
by moonchildd
Summary: No one noticed the poppies blossoming in the mountains. No one noticed the missing people, or the alarming number of youth gangs cropping up all over town. No one noticed the apathy, or rather the complete absence of the police. I can't blame them, because neither did I. (Eventual K2)
1. Prototype

_A/N:**[**_**____****E**DIT]: This story was originally a writing exercise but has been re-written as an AU.

_This is a writing exercise and a fanfiction based of a fanfiction._

_ I'm a grade 8 student and I need to develop some basic writing skills so I decided to try Pixar's 22 rules of storytelling:_

_#20: Exercise: take the building blocks of a movie you dislike. How'd you rearrange them into what you DO like?_

_I'd like to state here however that I DO LIKE the fanfiction that I'm about to rearrange into building blocks for me to play with. My goal ISN'T to improve the source material (that would be both arrogant and rude) but to use it as metaphorical training wheels and ultimately rewrite it into a completely different story. _

_I do NOT own South Park or Unmasked by Courtanie._

_****__**I have Courtanie's permission to write this AU.**_

_ s/6001007/1/Unmasked_

_The sentences taken word for word out of the original story will be bolded and italicized and will only appear in chapter 1. _

_Hope you enjoy, Elly out x_

_Rated M for violence._

* * *

Hardly anyone thinks 'wild and crazy' when they hear of Colorado, yet our town has seen more crazy than Freud's couch (oh yes, I went there) so it's probably safe to say that half of us could use some hard liquor and a padded room.

Not me though.

I've always been told that I have radar for trouble. I wouldn't have made it to my seventeenth birthday if I didn't.

To survive here, one has to evolve past normal human perceptiveness and breach the realm of the supernatural; Some of us here have gone even beyond that and turned supernatural themselves. It's like we're a bunch of roaches, thriving in a radioactive wasteland.

I sidestep the upturned pavement and enormous cracks left from last week's flash flood. The road has been rendered useless for several kilometers down.

It wrinkles like dead skin, huge chunks of land and pavement are upturned like nasty wounds, leaving behind craters large enough to swallow a four seat car.

_**My cellphone starts blaring and I sigh as I pull it out.**_** The caller ID reads 'Mom'**_**. I slide it open, briskly slamming it up to my ear. "Yea?"**_

"_**Kyle Broflovski, where are you?"**_

I turn away from the microphone and take a deep breath. "I'm on a walk ma."

_**"I made you this dinner and you decided to take a walk? Get home right now young man!"**_

"Mom-"

"I spent an entire week planning this, and you aren't going to pull another one of your disappearing acts this time Kyle! I- Your father and I…Worry about you." Oh no. Not this again. "We know we've set high standards, and getting an education is important but there should be a balance, you should get out more." And that's why she wants me to head home. Brilliant.

There's no use arguing with her so I shift my phone to the other ear and say;

"Ok mom, I'm on my way."

She doesn't hang up though, and I fidget. What else?

_**"You should head back right now Kyle. Your grandparents are here to see you, the least you can do is show up for your own dinner!"**_

I can tell now that my 17th birthday is about to turn into a Bar Mitzvah. Oh God, I can almost feel myself going through puberty again.

"I'm on my way." I repeat, and then hang up. Son of a bitch!

_**I turn roughly on my heel, starting to trump back in the direction of my house. **_

I must be huffing like a train because I almost miss the faint squeaks emitting from an overturned ash bin. It lies among a pile of shattered glass. What did they break anyway? There aren't any storefront windows here, no bus stop to vandalize. I tip-toe through the mess, wincing as an especially thick piece pops beneath my heel. I hear it again, the sad, little squeaking that I finally recognize as chirps. I sink into a crouch by the bin and reach inside, half afraid that the bird could be nesting or just plain hostile but nothing happens when my fingers curl around the warm, fluffy body. I can feel it trembling against my palm as I pull it out into the light.

It's…Brown. I don't know what type of bird it is. I, like most city dwellers could name more logos than bird species. I can probably conclude what it's not; it's definitely not a sparrow, or the other kind of sparrow, the one with the forked tail who supposedly sings and was saved by Thumbelina at some point. It's not a crow, or a robin or even a pigeon. It's kinda elegant and looks like a girl.

I can't explain why, I guess because it has a friendly face…Mug…Beak…Whatever.

"What's wrong?" I ask, stroking it's delicate head with my index finger. "Are you hurt?"

"Pshh Probably. Care to join it?" Someone snarls from behind me.

I jump to my feet, clutching the bird to my chest out of impulse.

The owner of the voice is wearing a ski mask, just like a cartoon robber. I swallow heavily and back away. The glass snaps viciously with each panicked step that I take.

"Where you heading little birdie?"

"Nowhere!" I yelp, feeling my back collide with the wall behind me. Shit, shit SHIT! I glance down, sizing up the ash bin in my mind. No. I could never lift that. It would take someone thrice my size.

He crooks a finger, gesturing for me to come closer. I remain where I am, part in fear but mostly in defiance.

I remain frozen to the spot until he breaks our staring contest and lunges for me. Luckily, it's then that my fighting instincts finally decide to kick in. I duck, tripping him as I make a desperate attempt to get away. I don't get far. There are two more masked figures blocking both sides of the ally. What possessed me to wander to this part of town? A vague memory of myself leaving the house this morning surfaces like an unpleasant aftertaste; I wanted to go urban exploring, maybe find the city dump. It all seems so stupid to me now that I'm rowing my way up shitcreek.

As if acknowledging the futility of the situation, the bird I've been holding begins to pry it's self out of my grip. It pains me how much I wish I could have wings.

I throw the bird in the air; It falters, and for a moment I think that it will fall like a stone, but it manages to adjusts and soars out of my line of sight.

"What do you want?" I ask them, though some icy, shadowed part of my mind tells me I should already know.

"There's no use running Kyle, you can make it so much easier on yourself."

They start closing in on me.

"What do you want from me?! LEAVE ME ALONE!" I scream just before one of them grabs me and shoves me down into the glass. Searing pain shoots through my right palm, but I don't get to dwell on it for long because both my hands are dragged behind my back and fastened with something sleek and plastic in texture.

I'm grabbed by the chin, my head wrenched painfully to the side and I'm forced to look into the eyes of whom I assume to be their leader.

They are brown in color but the detail hardly registers with me because they regard me with such unreserved cruelty that I suddenly feel like a lamb in the hands of a butcher.

"So how does it feel to be finally taken in hand Jew-rat?"

If I had any doubts before as to the identity of the masked figure, they have evaporated without a trace as soon as the familiar insult made it past the fat bastard's lips.

"CARTMAN, YOU PSYCHO ASSHOLE! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, LET ME GO YOU FREAK!"

"Don't count on it Anne Frank."

"BURN IN HELL!" I roar, straining against their grip and the binds around my wrists, but it's no use. I push back, putting my entire core into the effort, but their grip is like iron; struggling against it is like trying to lift a truck.

I finally quiet, exhausted from shouting and thrashing. Anger at Cartman's bigotry still feeds my fighting spirit, but it's rapidly evaporating as I cool down.

I'm no longer looking at any of the thugs holding me down, but I hear Cartman addressing his men. "All right, we better get a move on, it isn't safe to mess around outside our territory anymore." What territory? I feel my heart constrict in panic. I've heard tons of horror stories involving kidnapping statistics; If they take me away the probability of me getting out of this alive is next none.

The only chance I have is to try appealing to Cartman's humanity and hope he even has any left.

"Cartman! We were friends! We grew up together, why would you do this?" I plead, hating how pathetic I sound as I practically beg the fat degenerate for mercy.

"Why Kahl? Because I can. Because I had to put up with living in the same pathetic swamp as vermin like you, forced to conform to your pathetic expectations, forced to eat out of the same disgusting cafeteria, built for pigs, not humans Kahl. I was never one of you, and you treated me like I was, like you didn't recognize that I'm clearly of a superior race. I was made for greatness and you were made to serve me, and I intend to put every last one of you in your pla- THE FUCK?"

I strain to see what could possibly halt Cartman's delusional ranting but my sight is blocked by several struggling men.

It suddenly dawns on me that two of my captors have joined the fight, leaving me restrained by just one guy. I attempt to throw him off. He won't budge but I finally get a glimpse of what caused the commotion. The brawling bodies clear out of my sight just enough to reveal a caped figure beating the life out of one of my attackers. I can also spot Cartman, who made his way into the center of it all, standing idly as his men nearly join the choir invisible. I snort. Too superior to even help his lackeys.

I'm not sure if this means that I'm now in even bigger trouble, but seeing Cartman's gang tossed around like rag dolls is pretty satisfying and I find myself rooting for the cape guy.

They finally start to back down and I see Cartman approach the cape guy like half of his 'minions' didn't just have their asses handed to them by a kid in a superhero costume.

"So nice of you to drop by Mysterion. Now fuck off before I quarter you."

The cape guy is understandably unfazed by Cartman's empty threats. He looks Cartman up and down for a moment, then rasps out "Ditto." and kicks Cartman square in the chest.

Cartman drops with a shriek and stays down. I can hear him wheezing noisily as Cape- Mysterion turns and strides toward me.

The guy holding me scrambles away, and my stomach sinks at how terrified he appears to be of my savior.

"Please... Just let me go." I whisper, flinching when he cuts my plastic handcuffs with a blade that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I briefly wonder why he didn't use it in the fight. It was over in seconds but it didn't escape me that he fought completely unarmed.

"You better follow me Kyle." he says, offering me a gloved hand.

This could be it. I could take the red pill and claim my place among the lost boys of South Park; forever young in the minds of my loved ones, feeding them hope for a year or two, until they stop hoping and began to move on.

I want to run, but I know that I don't stand a chance against Mysterion; hell I couldn't even get away from Cartman's lackeys.

Deciding that going with Mysterion is the only choice I really have, I extend my own shaking hand.


	2. Stories

_A/N: Had to change the title and Kyle's age so that this story can work in the future._

_Once again, this is a writing exercise and a fanfiction based on a fanfiction. Concept and (a large part of the plot) belongs to Courtanie._

_ s/6001007/1/Unmasked _

_I have Courtanie's permission to write this AU._

* * *

I've never been the athletic type. Every gym teacher I've ever had would vouch for me with passion. If there was ever a day when I didn't bring in a doctor's note, I would have a smartass comeback, and if that failed, I'd skip. Boy, do I regret it now.

I feel like I'm on a verge of an asthma attack as I try to keep up with Mysterion's mad pace. The guy is _inhuman. _I tried asking him to slow down a bit, but he just grabbed me by the wrist and left me with no other choice but to follow even closer behind, all the while trying not to trip and fall on my face.

It seems like an eternity before we finally stop, and even longer before I manage to catch my breath. I glance up at Mysterion; the bastard doesn't even seem ruffled_. _I could probably narrow down who he is if just by around what kind of maniac does parkour, track and mixed martial arts in their free time.

Finally feeling like I'm no longer on the verge of a fainting spell, I take a look at my surroundings. I don't think I recognize the part of town we're in. A familiar anxiety settles at the pit of my stomach as my body cools down; Is he planning on letting me go?

I decide to just go right out and ask him.

He turns toward me, eyes wide behind his mask. "Of course!" he exclaims, then ducks his head and mumbles "…I didn't mean to scare you Kyle."

That's the complete opposite of what I expected from the coldly efficient fighting machine of several minutes ago, so all I can do is gape. That's…That was … cute. Oh God. I'll probably need therapy after this whole thing is over with.

"So…Am I free to go now?" I ask when I finally regain my ability to speak.

He shakes his head.

"Why?" I demand. I just want to go home. My parents are probably pissed by now and I just want this horrendous day to _end._

"They're waiting for you at your house."

WHAT?

"They have my family?!" I shriek, gripping his shoulders before I realize what I'm doing.

He winces as my fingers dig into his sinuous flesh, but I'm too shell-shocked to register what I'm doing.

"N-No, they're patrolling outside, waiting for you to come home. Kyle please..!" he gasps before shaking off my stiffened hands. I flush when I realize that I've been hurting him this whole time. "Sorry." I breathe, stumbling back in a rush to put some distance between us.

"It's fine." He replies, then gives me an amused look and says "It's nice to know you can call upon some strength if need be."

"Hey!"

He just sniggers at the appalled look on my face.

The sound of his disguised voice slipping into a softer tenor sets off something uncomfortable and fluttery in my chest.

Did he just call me a wimp? He's right, but I can't help but feel slightly offended. It's like I don't want to lose face in front of him. It's like I care about what this anonymous stranger thinks of me, which is totally sad and stupid, but true. Gah I don't know who I'm angrier at more; him or me.

"Right. So are we just going to hang out here?"

"We can go inside if you want. "

I look around in confusion. There aren't any residential buildings, only an electric shed and an abandoned school. I point at it and ask "You mean inside the school? That place has been closed for years. "

He grins wickedly.

"Oh yeah. I hear it was because some kid was closed inside a locker and forgotten about over summer break. He was dead when they found him of course. Tried scratching himself out, wore down his fingers to the bone."

"Aren't we a little old for ghost stories?"

"It actually happened though."

"Oh please."

"It's true!"

"What was his name then?"

"John Doe." He says, looking completely serious.

"Oh my God!"

I can hear him laughing as I throw up my arms and strut away.

I never got to read comic books as a kid; they were pretty much banned at my house, but I have heard about the big ones like Superman and Batman. Mysterion might channel Batman with his dark getup and raspy voice but he's not fooling anybody with that Spiderman attitude. I rattle the front door. Of course it would be locked. I peek over at Mysterion; He's just standing where I left him, probably laughing his ass off at my efforts. _Let him laugh_ I think as I make my way down the school's perimeter. I'll find how to get in somehow.

There's an unbarred window which seems promising.

Something about this day has switched on my inner teenaged imbecile, because I'm clearly not thinking as I pick up a boulder and sling it at the window. _What the fuck am I doing_ I ask myself as I search in the grass for a stick to clear away the remaining shards with. If someone were to tell me that I would be vandalizing an abandoned school while hiding from Cartman with the aid of a superhero, I'd tell them to go easy on the hallucinogenic drugs.

And just like that, I'm in. It's almost mind blowing how easy it was to just…Break in. I just did what I want without considering the consequences. I'm not sure I like where my mind is going or where my feet are taking me, but I'm not about to stop. I lean out the window to call Mysterion but the courtyard's empty.

A clang echoes from somewhere deep inside the empty building and I immediately regret everything I've done with my life up to this point.

The classroom I'm in is mostly empty; even the floor has been stripped bare of linoleum but there are some chairs and desks stacked in the far right corner. I grab one of the chairs and lift it up protectively as I strain to catch any other sounds from whatever could be lurking outside this classroom.

I hear a familiar "Hey." before Mysterion appears in the doorway.

"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" I groan as I drop the damn chair.

He just grins self importantly and says "There's a vending machine down the hall."

"Seriously?" I ask "They didn't clear it out before closing?" I didn't even realize how hungry I was, until the mention of food. I haven't eaten a thing since the morning.

"Nope."

"Lead the way dude."

* * *

The semi darkness and stale air envelop me in a strange, dreamlike fatigue. Mysterion stays a few steps ahead the whole time, his hooded silhouette conjuring images of days long past; of night time travellers and underground cults, and of death personified.

I'm snapped out of the gloomy trance by the shattering of glass.

"Sweet!" I exclaim, reaching for a pack of pretzels.

Mysterion isn't nearly as modest; he drapes his cape over one shoulder and uses it to load it with as many snacks as possible. Well then. I decide to throw away false pretences and do the same with my shirt.

By the time the sun sets, I almost manage to forget about Cartman and the fact that he tried to kidnap me and is probably still watching my house.

We're in the library, lounging on a bunch of ratty pillows that we pulled from the moth infested couch to the floor, taking turns doing dramatic readings of Angélique, the Marquise of the Angels.

"Ewww! Ewwww! _STOP._" I laugh, although I think it sounds like sobbing by this point. "Gimmie that, I'm gonna make sure that when the world ends, this will be burned first!"

"Why wait?" asks Mysterion, pulling out a freaking lighter.

"No! Fuck no, we're not starting a fire in the LIBRARY, where we're surrounded by a million fucking books!"

"So?"

"Books are made out of wood ya dropout!" he ducks expertly as I chuck the paperback at his head. "The only place worse in terms of being a fire hazard is an average Canadian town!"

"I'm not a dropout. Not yet anyway."

"You're still in school?" I can't believe it. He seemed so much...No not older. Now that I think about I thought of him as someone around my age the whole time. It's just odd picturing someone so...(Cool? Unusual? Atypical? I find that I don't really have a definition for him, so I spare myself the trouble) learning among people like me.

"What? Are you surprised?" he grins, but I can tell that there's defensiveness behind the cheerful front.

"No, it's just...Never mind."

We settle into an awkward silence. He seems to tire of just sitting here, avoiding eye contact and picks up the abandoned book again.

"So why are you planning on dropping out?" I ask finally.

"I'm not." he replies, ripping out one of the pages and folding it into something that looks a lot like the start of a paper airplane.

"What do you mean? You just said you-"

"Well I can't drop out now that I've told you, right? If I get unmasked many people can get killed."

And just like that, the sobriety of the situation sinks in and the last of the carefree mood evaporates like helium escaping a punctured balloon.

"Yeah. You're right." I sigh."We definitely don't want that."

* * *

_A/N: DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE? /Eyebrowwiggle_

_Shout out and a bajillion kudos to Unmasked by Courtanie yo_


	3. Walking Off My First World Problems

_A/N: Hahaha so now you know that Kenny's /Mysterion's identity isn't as central as it was in Unmasked (all though it remains pretty important in many ways :P)_

* * *

I always figured Kyle would be a light sleeper; I imagined he'd toss and turn through the night, twitching at the slightest noise, as restless in sleep as he is by day.

Turns out, Kyle sleeps like the dead. I'm almost spooked by how still he is. I don't even think his chest is moving.

I squash down the desire to check for a pulse, telling myself to stop being morbid; I've gotten my fill of beatings from when I'd wake my parents and sister up for the same reason. He'll be safe here, no one will think of looking for him here, and Cartman will be too busy dealing with me to even remember about him for a good long while.

* * *

"WHERE THE _FUCK _WERE YOU POOR-BOY?!" Rages Cartman as I arrive at the base. 'The base' is essentially a villa, just a few kilometres outside town. If someone were to unknowingly get a look at the place, it's highly unlikely that they'd guess that the posh quarters are in reality the meeting ground for just about every type of gangster, drug baron and pimp in South Park. "THE CAPE FREAK SHOWED AND FUCKED US RIGHT UP THE FUCKING ASSHOLES WHILE YOU WERE OUT BLOWING BRONIES!" I strain not to grin like I won the lottery; I fucking live to piss Cartman off.

"AND YOU!" He turns to scream at the rest of the guys in attendance "WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL EVERYONE ABOUT STAYING ON BASE UNTIL STATED OTHERWISE?! WE WERE FUCKING ASSRAPED BY THE MYSTERION FAG BECAUSE HALF OF YOU WERE OBVIOUSLY MISCARRIED, THAT'S THE ONLY POSSIBLE REASON. THE ONLY POSSIBLE WAY TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU'RE ALL. SO. FUCKING. RETARDED."

"We had no idea he'd show up! It must be someone else..-"

"IT'S THE SAME FAG CRAIG!"

"I killed him! I saw him die Cartman, I-"

"It's. The same. Fag." hisses Cartman "I can tell. He must have been wounded. Some people survive worse. I'll find him and then fucking tie him to a motorbike and ride straight to Canada."

The silence that fills the room is a clear indicator that everyone's thinking the same thing; Cartman's losing it.

Craig shot me between the eyes. Everyone saw it, including Cartman. No one could survive that. I could spot bits of my brain stuck to the ceiling when I walked in the next day.

"B-but we've all seen him d-die Eric, m-maybe-"pipes in Butters.

"ARE YOU IMPLYING. THAT I'M LYING BUTTERS? IS THAT YOUR EDUCATED GUESS?!"

"N-no that's not what I-!" Sobs poor Butters as Cartman grabs him by the chin. "YOU BETTER NOT BE. YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING PISS ME OFF BUTTERS." spits Cartman. Butters looks like he might faint, but starts crying instead and I swear I can feel my self control snap like a milk-bone.

"Cartman, maybe you should get some air-"

"OH NO, YOU'RE THE _LAST_ PERSON WHO SHOULD BE TALKING RIGHT NOW KINNY-"

"Cartman, this won't solve anything. Butters was here when Mysterion showed up. He did everything correctly."

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR INPUT POOR BOY, SO YOU BETTER MAKE LIKE HUDINI BEFORE I GIVE IT TO YOU FOR CRAIG, AND BUTTERS AND THE CAPE FAG"

I try telling myself that I'll regret it, that I should think about the big picture, that this will only fuck things up for me and everyone else, but I'm well past the point of rational thought as I register myself snarling; "Go ahead. If you think you can take me, take a swing. Because I only see you messing with people you can handle, people who are smaller and weaker than you. Go on you fucking coward!"

He freezes on the spot. I know he'll never take the bait and attempt fighting me, especially not in front of a crowd of witnesses. We both know he'd never win.

He lets go of Butters and turns to his men.

"Everyone's dismissed." He states, fixing me with a murderous glare as I turn to leave with everyone else.

I suddenly feel like punching myself in the fucking face. Cartman isn't letting this go. Why did I have to go and run my mouth? Now he's going to single me out and make my already difficult task even more so.

What a way to start off the day.

* * *

I seriously struggle with the concept of 'this isn't my bed, nor is this my house so why the _fuck_ am I out here?!' as I wake on a pile of dusty pillows in the middle of what at first looks like the specialty shop from my childhood, but is in fact a motherfucking library.

It all comes back to me when I flip open my vibrating phone and read the flashing reminder:

_Good morning Kyle ) It should be safe to go home by now, xoxo Mysterion _

"You little shit!" I exclaim, wrestling myself out of the makeshift bed. How did he manage to unlock my phone? I want to be annoyed about it, but I can't help the smile creeping to my face; He could have just left without saying anything, but didn't. There's absolutely no telling why my stupid mind wants to do cartwheels over the fact.

My parents are going to kill me.

I throw on my jacket and propel myself down the hallway. Getting out the window proves much more difficult than I remember it being last night; I nearly plunge down face first in to the concrete belowas my foot catches the windowsill, but I manage to catch myself just in time, shaking all over from the adrenaline of the near-fall. I take a second to collect myself then make my way down, carefully avoiding the mess I made of the glass. My next order of business is to find my way out of the unfamiliar neighborhood. The very idea of something being unfamiliar to me about South Park should be laughable, but South Park is a strange place. Even those who have spent their entire lives here will never cease to be surprised by the many dark corners still left to be discovered_. It's like an ocean_ my mind supplies. _Only smaller and scarier; which says a lot, since the ocean is pretty fucking scary._

My phone doesn't have a GPS app because it's an ancient Nokia brick that I had to replace my Iphone with after Cartman drowned it in two liters worth of Pepsi.

I'll probably wonder around for hours if I don't get some type of directions. I glare at my phone accusingly. How did people even survive in the nineties? And then I realize that I can just call someone.

I start dialing Stan's number but decide against calling; he's probably in class right now and I don't want to get him in trouble so I settle on texting him instead:

_Stan, I need your help, call me ASAP-Kyle_

He might not see it for a while, which is why I continue scrolling.

Butters doesn't use his cell for anything but emergencies, Cartman's out of the question, Token only talks to me when we have projects together. My only real option is to call Kenny. It's worth a shot, Kenny doesn't care about getting in trouble, and would probably use it as an excuse to skip the rest of the day anyway. I tell myself as much when I press call, but I can't help but feel bad about it somehow. What if he is in class, and I'm just embellishing his lofty attitude for my own benefit? I half expect to be redirected to voicemail, when he finally picks up:

"What's up?"

"Hey Kenny. Can you talk?"

"Sure, shoot."

"Ok, good, I'm kinda in the middle of nowhere and I have no idea how to get back home-"

"Were you abducted by aliens or something?" I can hear him lean away from the receiver and laugh like he's been talking to someone and is still riled up from the conversation or the joint they were sharing.

"Dude, I need your help, come on!"

"Sorry, sorry, I just oh pffff-" there's more muffled laughing. And here I was thinking I'd be interrupting his studying.

"I'm serious! Kenny, what the fuck! Are you high?"

"It's a federal secret mom!" He chokes out, then probably sensing that I'm about to hang the fuck up on him, asks in an abruptly sober voice "Are you ok Kyle?"

"No I am not ok! I'm in the middle of nowhere and Car- My uh parents will fucking kill me if I don't haul ass back home, like right now, and a certain friend of mine is being NO HELP!" I shout the last bit right in to the receiver.

"Sorry, I was just, never mind. Where are you?"

"At the abandoned Catholic school…Uh Saint Thomas. Could you look up a route for me?"

"I know where that is. It's just two blocks away from your house dude."

"Seriously?!"

"Yeah dude, just pass the hill and head down the road, and you'll see the plaza that's like right by your house. "

"Thanks dude. I was just about to head in the other direction. Wow. It was there the whole time and I had no idea. Ok whatever, I'll be going now. Seriously, I owe you one."

"Haha what? Don't even mention it."

"Ok."

"Bye Kyle."

"Bye." I reply absently, just as he hangs up.

* * *

My parents are as angry as expected. Mom has even managed to file a missing person's report, which was rejected due to me missing for less than 24 hours.

"You better have a very good explanation for this young man!" she demands. I simply shake my head. I'm pretty sure that if I told her what I was up to last night, she'd call _the army._ "Where were you?! What could you have been up to on a school night Kyle? Why didn't you call?!" her shouting picks up in pitch "You have a phone Kyle, did you even have it turned on? You know what, let me see it."

I pale at that. No way can she see the reminer that Mysterion has left me.

"Uh, I don't have it with me. I left it at home."

"Then go get it and bring it to me right now!"

I race up the stairs and open a few drawers in an effort to sound like I'm searching around. I open Mysterion's reminder, but something stops me from just pressing delete. I just stall like that for what seems like forever, thumb hovering above the select button. I can't do it, I don't want to do it. I slide off the battery and pull out the sim card. I don't know how I'm going to explain that, but I'm ready to tell mom anything just to keep that stupid reminder. I don't think I recognize myself anymore as I head downstairs.

"Well?"

I hand her the cell.

She tries turning it on then reaches for the battery, probably in an attempt to check if some of the circuits came loose. However it doesn't take her long to figure out the real reason why my cell has suddenly gone out of commission.

"Where's the card Kyle?"

"I don't know."

Stunned into silence, she looks at dad as if asking for an explanation. This isn't like me. I have never acted out over something so trivial.

The look they shared must have meant something to at least one of them because in the next moment, dad turns to me and asks:

"Are you buying drugs Kyle?"

_WHAT?!_

"DAD! Where did this even come from?!"

"Did you sell the sim card Kyle?"

"No!" _who would even buy that? Do people even buy used sim cards anymore?_

"We're worried about you Kyle." Says mom. "You won't tell us where you were, and now your electronics are missing, what are we supposed to think?"

"I DON'T DO DRUGS MOM!"

"Kyle, we have every reason to worry after you-"

I stumble back, suddenly feeling dangerously light on my feet.

"Mom, dad, I thought we agreed not to talk about this! I can't, please, not now!"

"We have to deal with it sometime..-"

"NO! NOT NOW, NOT EVER, NO!" I say, backing away, feeling the burn of unshed tears stinging my eyes. "I'm just going to deal with this on my own, like we agreed." Is the last thing I say before running back upstairs and shutting myself in my room.

* * *

_A/N: This is the first time I'm writing in 1st person, and it's kicking my ass _

_No one narrates their life like that, it's all lies O_O_


	4. Millionaire

It's almost funny how stubbornly people tend cling to ghosts. They can see you every day, talk to you, acknowledge you in their own deluded way but in reality, you're all but invisible to them. Years can pass and the young and promising wunderkind begins to bald, yet he remains the kid of the office, the up and coming big thing.

I wouldn't say I'm sure of many things, but there's one thing I am absolutely set on; there's nothing more persistent in this world than ghosts and the people keeping them alive.

My room changed little over the years. A real reflection of the owner I guess; it remains just as poorly furnished and barely lit as it was back when I actually _was_ dirt poor. 'Was' being the key word here. I've resigned my poor kid title sometime around eighth grade, and have been stashing my untraceable yet ever growing capital in every inch of my piece of shit house.

I am a millionaire. Isn't it ironic, me being a fucking millionaire? I think so. I think it's fucking ironic that when I go to sleep every night, on my stinky-ass mattress, I get to snuggle up with several thousand bucks. What really tickles me pink is that I can neither buy a new mattress, nor take out those fucking cash rolls, which make me seriously consider the floor as a better alternative. But that would be too suspicious. You see, my father didn't appreciate me bringing home what I've affectionately christened "opium money".

Back when I was fourteen and making my grand criminal debut, pops socked me in the jaw to make sure I wouldn't go down the path of crime, drugs and Gene Simmons.

Plot twist: I did anyway.

That's when pops decided to do what any concerned and morally upstanding parent would do if their offspring strayed from the path of ... (who the fuck am I kidding, pops doesn't give a flying fuck about God): threaten me with killing mom and Karen. Now shit like that doesn't fly with me at all, and were I free to do so, I would grab my family and head to the nearest border. But there's always a 'but'. Turns out that crime, just like anarchy only looks like freedom on paper. Especially if said paper is green.

So that was that; I had no choice but stay. What's even better, pops sobered up after several days and declared that he actually doesn't give a shit about what I do, provided that I do it for the right guys.

As if life isn't banal enough, I find out that the god damn apple really doesn't fall too far from the tree; pops had the same gig going back in the 70's, except he wasn't any good at it. The old turd only stayed alive thanks to the protection of some guy on the inside, who supposedly owns him some enormous favour (I bet it's sex related- it's_ totally_ sex related).

One of his sons getting involved with a rival gang certainly wasn't part of their deal, so I had to stop or they'd kill pops, but not before he'd kill **my** family, so I stayed, but didn't stop. Pops has to be the biggest hypocrite on earth to expect me to just walk out of a gang; I pretty much sold my freedom and my right to have a significant other_ years_ ago. Mom and Karen weren't killed right off the bat because immediate family is convenient, immediate family isn't like a wife or girlfriend, you can't tell them to drop everything and run, they have their own lives and stuff, plus most people don't involve their parents or siblings in their shady affairs.

So here I am, a millionaire. And I can't spend a single cent on anything dad or his X gang would notice. It's not all bad of course. I eat better, dress warmer. Sneak every imaginable girly trinket to Karen. I don't think she even remembers when her birthday is anymore; every day she's alive and well is a special occasion to me and I make sure to mark it.

As for mom, I wish I could help her at least a little bit, but dad's always hovering around so giving her anything is like sneaking provision to a war occupant.

It gets to me sometimes (more like makes me want to strangle a bitch) that people see me as the white-trash-poor-kid from the wrong side of the train tracks, but in all fairness- it keeps me and my family safe, so I should probably be thankful for their stubborn need to cling to ghosts.


	5. V

I wake around ten in the afternoon, groggy and disoriented. Stan's sitting at my desk, scrolling through his phone. He jumps to his feet when he notices me wake, shoves his phone into some invisible inner coat pocket, then paces toward me.

"Dude you should have called me! I was worried sick!"

I lower my head in sullen agreement. I really should have called Stan after sending him a text that could have as well been Titanic's last telegraph, but I was just so emotionally drained after being hounded by Cartman and then the fight with my parents that I barely even remember my face hitting the pillow before falling into dreamless sleep.

I rub my eyes until stars explode behind my eyelids.

The bed sinks by my left side and I feel Stan wrap a warm arm around my shoulder. He shakes me lightly, as if conveying to me that we're cool. I really do hope so. Everything has been such a mess lately, I don't think I could handle having Stan mad at me on top of it all.

The last of my worries are dispelled when he claps me on the back and asks, sounding nothing short of intrigued; "Did your mom seriously take your phone?"

"Yeah." I chuckle, rubbing the last of the frustration out of my eyes. "She thinks I'm doing drugs."

Stan's expression fleets between a perfect 'o' and a bewildered grin as he grasps for words that could adequately express the 'what in the ever living fuck', that's no doubt spinning on the tip of his tongue. He finally settles on:

"That's crazy man."

"Tell me about it."

"But…Why?"

My tongue's never been my ally and I hardly register myself blurting out:

"I refused to give her the sim card, so she thought I sold it for drugs. Well, dad's the one who said it, but they're both thinking it."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Huh?"

"What was wrong with the sim card?"

I definitely wasn't going to tell _anyone,_ not even Stan that I've been chilling out with Mysterion instead of studying for midterms, but it's not like I've been sticking to my own rules so far anyway …

"Stan, you have to promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you,- okay?"

Stan perks up, all steely vigilance. "Of course not. What is it?"

The thing is, I know Stan. We've been friends for years, I know that he would never break a promise, but is it really fair to involve him in this mess? But then why shouldn't I? Mysterion goes to our school. And so does Cartman. There's some kind of street war going on, and Stan should be informed. Oh God, what if Cartman decides to go after Stan? I can't believe I was planning on keeping this to myself; this is serious. Stan could be in as much danger as me. _Shit!_

I swallow heavily, unsure of where to start.

"Cartman tried kidnapping me."

"What?!"

"He has a gang apparently, and they cornered me when I was heading back home yesterday."

"Dude, why?!"

"Fuck knows. Maybe he's finally lost it and decided to start killing Jews left and right. I have no idea. We haven't talked since last year, so it couldn't have been a recent grudge or something."

"It could have been an old one." growls Stan through his teeth.

"No, I mean what could it be?"

"He never really liked you; Might have gotten a taste of power and decided to finally get you."

"Yeah. Yeah maybe."

"What about the sim card?"

"Oh, ok this is where it gets kinda, weird." I say, chuckling nervously.

"Weirder than almost getting kidnapped by an asshole we hung out in elementary school with?"

"_Oh yeah. _So get this, some kid dressed like a superhero showed up and pummelled like ten guys, unarmed."

"You're not joking?"

"No dude, I'm serious. I was rescued by real life Batman or some shit."

"Wait, he was dressed up as BATMAN?! THIS IS UNREAL DUDE OH MY GOD." Wheezes Stan, hunching over with laughter.

"No," I say, laughing along with Stan. "-he just had like normal street clothes and a cape. I guess they were kinda combat styled, like a SWAT uniform. But no, he didn't…-he wasn't dressed up as Batman. That would have been hilarious though oh man." I rub at my eyes again- I should really stop doing that. "He left me an alarm reminder on my cellphone, and I didn't want mom to see it because she'd never let it go. He kinda alluded to the danger we were in you know, it would have set mom off like a nuclear power plant so I told her I lost it. She and dad think that I sold it for drugs-can you even believe these people?"

My eyes start to itch for real now. Fuck. I shouldn't have been messing with them for no reason. I rub at my right eye, which begins to smart and tear up. Just great.

"Dude."

I pull a sleeve over my hand and rub it against both eyes; it's hard to see now through the tears, but it feels good to get the itch. The sting of pain is the next best thing after pressing an ice cube to the itch; it's strangely refreshing- spreading like a soothing chill over my throbbing skin.

"Dude."

I look up, staring at Stan through the blurry film of tears.

"Huh?"

Stan shakes his head, exasperated. "You should seriously leave your eyes alone dude. What I was trying to say is, why didn't you just delete the reminder?"

"H-what?"

"Why didn't you just delete the reminder instead of hiding the sim card? You wouldn't be in half as much trouble now."

I nearly cringe at that.

"I don't know." I reply coolly. "I just panicked I guess."

Stan looks guilty, probably thinking that I took his question the wrong way.

"I'm not judging you dude, I mean I would have probably messed up so much worse in your situation. Being hunted by Cartmant- Jesus. That's beyond messed up."

"No worries." I reply, almost too quickly. I shouldn't have reacted that way; Stan didn't say anything that would warrant me snapping at him.

"What are we going to do about Cartman? You'll have to go back to school sooner or later."

I didn't have time to think about that. Would he attack me out in the open? He did corner me in an ally of all things, so maybe he isn't so ruthless after all. I could try telling the police, but what good would it do? They'll round up Cartman, but that will leave all these other guys who apparently serve under him. I guess I have no choice but go about my life as I did before and hope for the best.

"I don't know. I can't report him to the police."

"I can be your body guard. Me and Kenny, we'll guard you!"

"So what, are we going to walk around like hikers and make a bunch of noise so the bears won't get me?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Sounds like a plan." I groan, digging my palms into my eyes again. "I'll just stand on a table and make myself look big."

"Hey dude?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if you'll still be celebrating your birthday, so uh, here." There's a rustle and then I feel Stan place something across my knees. It's not heavy, but then again- no present is. I glance down at the box in my lap; it's wrapped in Christmas paper, the same paper Stan's been using for all our presents since I can remember. His mom got a ton of it once while working part time at the floral department.

"You're the best dude." I say, grinning. Stan wiggles his eyebrows, urging me to open it.

I reach down and peel off the wrapping.

"IS THIS A FUCKING IPHONE?! OH MY GOD LET ME KISS YOU."

Stan yelps gleefully, wriggling away from my stealth attempts at planting one on his cheek. "I GOT IT AT A PAWN SHOP DUDE, IT COST ME TWENTY BUCKS!"

I remove the case and inspect its shiny surface. "It's brand new."

"Nah, look closer, it's got a scratch right here."

"In my books, it's brand fucking new!" I laugh, turning it this way and that, loving the weight of it in my palm. "Holy shit I was getting so sick of that brick."

It didn't even have a light up screen. I had to buy a fucking dollar store flashlight in order to make calls at night.

"It's a good thing you hid away your sim then, huh? Put it in, let's break this baby in."

I reach for my bottom desk drawer and feel around blindly until my fingers finally brush the tiny chip. I tuck it into my fist and move back to where Stan's holding my new Iphone.

"You almost sat on it." he comments as he hands it back. "Need a pin?"

"Uh it's okay, I got it." I reply absently, reaching under the bed for my pencil case.

I pull out a mechanical pencil and pop the sim card holder open.

Wait. I remember the last time I switched phones. All the contacts and notes and reminders were erased once I switched models.

I painfully want to keep the reminder but I don't want to seem ungrateful; Stan's watching me eagerly, waiting to see my new present light up with the iconic Apple logo. I pause for just one more moment, cradling the chip between my thumb and index finger like a precious stone, then with a heavy heart, permit my fingers to slip it into the holder and push the sim card into place.

* * *

Please review/ critique. Any feedback is most welcome! :P


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